


Set Up

by Joycee



Series: Psych [5]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nazis, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rape Aftermath, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4413071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joycee/pseuds/Joycee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>White Collar busts a couple of Vincent Adler's relatives for Nazi stolen art. It gets personal for Neal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set Up

Peter Burke called everyone into the conference room at the FBI office and said, “Get this: we got a call about some ‘Nazi art’ that was supposed to go on display next week over at the United Nations. Apparently, some of Adolph Hitler’s original paintings have gone missing from the collection.”

Diana shrugged, “And that is our problem, how?”

Neal said, “Oh, they’re shitty paintings, but they’re valuable because of the novelty factor. Fourteen drawings and paintings were auctioned for $450,000 in Germany recently. The buyers were from China, Europe, Brazil and UAE.”

Peter added, “Apparently some of the ones captured at the end of the war are still held by the US military, too.”

Jones asked, “How many did the guy paint? Oh wait, I see it here – hundreds! Where did he find the time?”

“Well, our government doesn’t want to have an international incident over this so we’re supposed to ask around and see what we can find out.” Peter sighed. “Neal and I will meet with the owners at the warehouse where the paintings disappeared and check out the security. Jones, you collect some more specific information on the missing pieces. Diana, see if you can find out if there are any likely suspects.”

On the way to the warehouse, Neal complained to Peter, “Seriously? We’re supposed to track down Hitler paintings so they can show them at the UN?”

“Keeps them off the streets,” Peter responded. “Who are the owners of this crap anyway?” grouched Neal. 

“That’s what we are about to find out. Their names are Dirk and Deiter Adler. They’re American citizens whose grandfather was a German soldier.”

“Adler? Any relation to Vincent?” Neal asked with some concern in his voice.

“Oh, I don’t know. We can find out now, though. They’re meeting us here. Let’s go talk to them.”

The Adler brothers looked like they came straight out of a Nazi propaganda poster, well built blue-eyed blonds with short cropped hair. They were polite, but restrained, and stuck to their basic story that five original Hitler paintings that had been with the collection when it arrived at the warehouse were now missing.

Neal asked to see the rest of the collection, but he was told that the works were still in crates and he was given a catalog instead. They did show him the security system at the warehouse, which was not particularly impressive and probably not designed to protect high value items that were likely to be stolen. 

It was Neal’s opinion that there were no high value items in the Nazi collection. He flipped through the catalogue and saw mundane sculptures and paintings by Third Reich approved artists, Thorak, Klimsch, Breker, Wissel, and Ziegler; some architectural models by Albert Speer; and the six unremarkable street scenes painted by Hitler.

When they got back to the office, Diana had a list of known collectors of Nazi art and memorabilia plus contact numbers for the venues that had previously displayed the collection. Peter asked her to get more information on the Adler brothers.

Jones came over and said, “Deiter Adler just called and said they decided that Neal should see their collection after all. He asked if Neal could come back over there this afternoon.”  


Peter said, “Tell him we’ll come back in the morning. I have too much work here right now.” 

But Neal volunteered, “I can go over there this afternoon and look at the crap, Peter. Believe me, you won’t be missing out on any great art.”

Peter was already engrossed in some additional information collected by the team. He said, “OK, Neal. Take notes, ok? I’ll meet you in the morning for coffee before work.”

Neal grinned, “I’ll talk to Mozz later, too, and see if he knows anything.”

Neal took a cab to the warehouse and was buzzed into the office. He stared in disbelief at the Adler brothers, who were now dressed in Nazi uniforms. There was a large Nazi flag on the wall that hadn’t been there that morning. He heard the door lock behind him and he realized he was trapped.

Deiter said, “The Fuhrer’s paintings are perfectly safe. What we really want is for you to tell us where our cousin Vincent hid his fortune before your FBI agent killed him.”

Neal said calmly, “You’ve got the wrong guy. I haven’t worked for Vincent since before I went to prison. I lost all my money in his Ponzi scheme like everyone else.”

“We are not fools, Caffrey. Vincent told us that he was recruiting you to help him with one last score of priceless art that was hidden by the Third Reich,” Deiter told him. Dirk walked around behind Neal.

Neal decided to just keep talking to distract them so he could try to get to his phone. “You know that the treasure he found was destroyed in a warehouse fire, don’t you? Peter Burke shot Vincent because he was about to shoot me.”

Dirk struck Neal across the back of the knees with a hard rubber truncheon and Neal sank onto the floor on his knees. The next blow came to the small of his back. Neal tried frantically to get his hand on his phone in his pocket, but Deiter grabbed both of his wrists tightly.

Neal tried to twist and buck back to get away, but Dirk whacked him again across the middle of his back. Desperately, Neal tried to play along with them to buy time. “Oh, wait, I’ll tell you everything I know. I know Adler’s account numbers and the location of some stashes.”

Deiter said suspiciously, “How do we know you’re telling the truth now?” Dirk landed another blow to make the point.

Neal pleaded, “You can check it out. I’ll stay here while you go look.”

Deiter smiled sadistically, “Of course you will.” Then he instructed his brother, “Strip him, Dirk, and tie him up.”

Neal tried again to charge at Deiter, but he was brought down from behind by Dirk. He knew he had to keep talking enough to make them believe he could help them. He said, “Hey, you guys don’t have to do all this. I don’t think Vincent would approve. I told you I’m going to help you.”

Dirk just held Neal in place while Deiter ripped his clothes off. “All in good time, Caffrey. Naked men don’t run – and they have so much skin exposed.”

Dirk was using leather cord to tie Neal up. When he came to the tracking anklet, he paused. Deiter told him, “Cut it off. When the FBI comes to find him, we’ll simply tell them that Neal must have cut it off himself because he got away with a valuable painting from our collection.”

Once Neal was bound securely with the leather cords, Dirk held him still while Deiter slipped a leather collar over his head. It was loose enough so Neal could breathe and talk, but he soon discovered that it delivered painful electric shocks to his neck when Deiter pressed a remote control.

Now Neal was really scared and wondered how he would ever get out of this. He prayed that Peter was on the way with a SWAT team.

Deiter gave him an evil smile and said, “Dirk, let’s show Neal what’s really in those crates.” They grabbed him by the shoulders and ankles and carried him between them into the storeroom where the crates were. When Neal tried to buck or twist away from them, Deiter shocked his neck.

The brothers dumped Neal onto the floor and propped him against a wall. He shivered from the cold without any clothing on in the cold room.

Deiter pointed to a crate and Dirk pried it open. Neal gasped. In the crate was what looked like a classic Renoir painting. Dirk pried open another crate to reveal another lost work by Monet.

“Deiter laughed, “We don’t need you to tell us anything, Caffrey. While your FBI friends are chasing around the city looking for genuine Adolph Hitler paintings, we will be moving these beauties to South America and replacing them with Nazi art for the UN showing.”

Neal was too shocked to respond. Finally he asked, “What do you really want from me?”

“All in good time, Neal,” replied Deiter. Then he pressed the remote control and shocked Neal just for fun. He told Dirk, “Get him out of here. The Feds are probably on their way.”

Dirk pushed Neal to the floor and whacked him across the back of his head with his truncheon, stunning him into submission. Then he picked him up and put him over his shoulder.

When Neal woke up, he was in a small dark room by himself. He was naked and bound and he was cold and in pain and he had wet himself. He still had the collar around his neck. Neal closed his eyes and tried to imagine Peter’s warm strong arms embracing him, Peter’s lips covering him with kisses.

Neal’s eyes flew open as he became aware of the aching burning pain in his ass. He began to hyperventilate and shiver as he hazily recalled Dirk inserting the truncheon in his ass and fucking him with it before Neal passed out again. 

Suddenly he felt uncontrolled nausea and vomited. His hands were tied behind his back so he couldn’t even wipe it away. Frantically, he worked himself over to a wall and began to pound his bound feet against it as hard as he could.

The Marshalls had notified Jones as soon as Neal’s anklet was cut and he immediately relayed the information to Peter and Diana. Peter froze in place. He and Diana had just discovered that the Adler brothers were cousins of Vincent Adler.

“Oh god, they asked for Neal to come back there by himself. It was a set-up!” Peter worried.

Diana said, “Boss, how do you know? Maybe Caffrey cut his anklet. It’s happened before.”

“Maybe for a Renoir or a Monet, but he didn’t cut his anklet for some crappy Nazi art,” Peter said. “Come on, Diana, we need to get over there. Jones call SWAT and bring a team over there to back us up.”

“What shall I tell them?” asked Jones.

“Tell them Caffrey’s in trouble. Something’s not right about this. I’ll call you as soon as we know more,” directed Peter. 

When Diana and Peter arrived at the warehouse, they were buzzed into the small office. Deiter was sitting at his desk and Dirk was nowhere to be seen. “Ah yes, Agent Burke,” Deiter greeted them, “I had a feeling you would be coming. We found this in the storeroom.” He held up the cut anklet.

“This is Agent Barrington. Where is Neal Caffrey?” Peter said tersely.

Deiter spread his hands and smiled insincerely, “That’s just the problem. We really don’t know. We found this device, but your man who was wearing it is gone – and with one of our most valuable paintings, I might add.”

Peter quickly closed the space between them and yanked Deiter up with a tight grasp of his shirt. He said menacingly, “You take me to Caffrey right now and cut the crap.”

Diana suddenly said, “Boss! I hear something. Listen?”

Peter’s face was clouded with rage and he looked like he was about to strangle Deiter.

Diana gave him a warning look and said, “I’ll handle this. You stay here with him.” Before he could object, she slipped out of the room and headed back into the warehouse. Once she found the crates, she stopped and listened again and called out, “Neal? Can you hear me?”

She heard the thumping sound she’d heard from the office only louder this time. She headed toward the sound and saw a door in the wall. “Neal?” she said again, “Are you here?”

This time she heard a distinct thump from behind the door and she pulled it open with her weapon drawn, slipping into the room quickly and looking in all directions. “FBI,” she said. Then she saw Neal and cried out, “Oh no, oh Neal. No no no no. What have they done to you?”

Neal was barely conscious but he looked at her with relief and murmured her name. Diana determined that the small room was empty except for Neal and quickly went to him and cut his restraints. For a moment, she cradled him in her lap.

Then she quickly stripped off her FBI jacket and wrapped it around Neal’s hips to cover his genitals. She asked him, “Do you think you can stand and help me get you out of here?” she asked. He nodded weakly and Diana gently dragged him to his feet. “Steady now, I’ve got you, Neal,” she said in a low voice.

Diana was still concerned about what Peter was doing to Deiter in the other room and where the other brother was, but Neal was in such terrible condition that she had to get him out of there. As she half carried Neal into the room with the containers, Clinton Jones burst in with weapon drawn, shouting, ”FBI! Freeze!”

Relief swept over Diana as she called out, “Jones, take Caffrey! He’s in bad shape. He can hardly walk.”

Jones ran over to her and lifted the naked urine and vomit and blood covered Neal into his arms. “Oh man,” he said, shaking his head. “Whoever did this to you is going to pay!”

Diana said grimly, “And I have a pretty good idea who that is. You get Neal to safety. I’m going to find Dirk Adler.”

Jones said, “SWAT is here with me. I’ll send them back to help you. Diana, what the hell is this thing on Neal’s neck?”

Diana gave him a helpless shrug, “Your guess is as good as mine. Nothing good, I’m sure.”

Neal stuttered out, “Sh-sh-shock….” with a look of utter terror on his face.

“A dog training collar,” Jones said with disgust, noting the bruises underneath it on Neal’s neck. He started back toward the front of the warehouse when Diana stopped him. “Clinton, do you think there’s any way you could get Neal past Peter without Peter seeing him like this. He’s already berzerk over the situation.”

Jones nodded, “Yeah, I see your point. I saw a side door on the way in. How about if I just go ahead and take Caffrey to the hospital. Can you handle things here all right?”

“Yes, go,” Diana told him, “Take him to Bellevue. They know him there.”

Looking around the room she was in, Diana saw only unopened crates. Not knowing where to pursue Dirk Adler, she returned to the front where Peter was holding the other brother, gun pressed against his head.

“We got Neal, Boss,” she said. “Jones is taking him to the hospital. No sign of the other creep.”

Peter frowned, “Hospital? Is he hurt? Jones already left with him?”

“All of the above,” she said quietly. “We need to take this guy in and search the premises for his brother.” Then she added, “It’s bad, Boss.”

Peter lowered his gun and asserted, “Which hospital? I’m going. You’re in charge here. You have plenty of help.”

Diana leveled her weapon at Deiter and said, “OK, let me get this one cuffed and secured. Then I’ll lead the search.” Then she moved close to Peter and said in a low voice, “Peter, Jones is taking Neal to Bellevue, but you won’t be able to do anything for him until they get him cleaned up and do their tests. We really need to interrogate Deiter to find Dirk. Do you think you could get anything out of him without killing him?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll take care of it,” Peter affirmed. “Diana, was Neal asking for me?”

Diana said sympathetically, “He couldn’t, Boss. The best thing you can do for him right now is to take down these Adler brothers.” Diana noticed a small remote control device lying on the desk. She picked it up and said angrily, “Start by asking him what this is!”

After they got the cuffs securely on Deiter, Peter roughly pushed him out the door. “Come on, Deiter, if you want to survive this, you’re going to talk to me now!”

Back at the FBI office, after he was read his rights, under Peter’s tough questioning, Deiter told him the whole story, except he claimed he didn’t know what Dirk had done to Neal after he put him in the closet. He speculated that Dirk had probably gone back to their penthouse offices or else to their home, so Peter relayed the information to Diana.

Then Peter left for Bellevue to check on Neal. He gathered Neal was in bad condition, but Diana had spared him any details. 

Once he had parked and gained access to the Emergency Department, Peter got someone to take him to Neal. There he found Dr. Chandra, who had treated them the last time they were there, at Neal’s side.

The doctor turned and said seriously, “Agent Burke, I see it was only Mr. Caffrey who got into trouble this time.”

Peter asked quickly, “How is he, doctor? Can I talk to him?”

Dr. Chandra replied, “We have him very heavily sedated now. He took quite a beating. Can you give me any details of what happened. Agent Jones who brought him in didn’t seem to know much about what happened.”

Peter said, “I know he was beaten by a rubber truncheon by a sadistic bastard and that he was shocked around his neck with a dog training collar. I know he was stripped naked, tied up, and left in a service closet. I didn’t see him at the scene so I don’t know what his exact injuries were. How bad is it, Doctor?”

Dr. Chandra frowned, ”Pretty bad bruising from the beatings on his back, none on his face. We’re checking for internal injuries, especially to his kidneys now. The collar left open burn sores around his neck, but they’re not deep. They’ll heal if they don’t get infected. The same with some bruises and rope burns around his wrists and ankles.”

He paused, then went on, “Are you aware that he was sexually assaulted?” Peter gasped, “No!” and all the color drained from his face.

The doctor looked at him with concern and asked, “Do you need to sit down, Agent Burke?” Peter stammered, “No….I mean yes….please.”

Dr. Chandra guided him to a chair and sat next to him. He smiled sympathetically and said, “Agent, we believe he was penetrated anally with the rubber stick. He has some minor tears and bleeding in that area and again we are examining him for internal damage.”

“Oh my God,” said Peter, shaking his head. “No wonder Diana didn’t want me to see him.”

The doctor said gently, “You are his lover as well as his colleague, Agent Burke?”

Peter looked up sharply and the doctor explained, “We found signs of consensual sex the night you two were brought in together. From your reaction, I gather there is a personal element to your feelings.”

Peter dropped his eyes and said, “Yeah, there is. Damn personal. When can I see him?”

Dr. Chandra told him, “Please wait just a minute. There is one other thing you should know. Mr. Caffrey was in a demoralized and humiliated state when they brought him to us. He had been lying in his own urine and vomit and blood and he was in severe pain, both physically and mentally. Even after we cleaned him up, hydrated him and dressed his wounds, he remained pretty incoherent.”

“Has he asked for me?” Peter inquired softly. “He has,” Dr. Chandra replied and patted Peter on his arm. “You can see him now, but remember he is heavily sedated. I’m trying to decide whether we need to admit him. It will depend on the results of the tests we ran. However, in any case, he’s going to need a lot of care and attention.”

Peter nodded and thanked him and walked over to Neal’s side. Neal was covered by a blanket and he was sleeping peacefully. Since there were no marks on his face, he looked as beautiful as he always did. They had washed and brushed his hair and his natural waves just fell into place.

Peter kissed his fingertips and brushed them against Neal’s cheek. Then he sank into a chair to wait for Neal to wake up. He got out his phone and made calls to El and to Diana to bring them up to date on Neal’s condition.

Diana reported that they had not been able to locate Dirk Adler yet. Peter said grimly, “We’ll get him. That bastard is going to pay for this.”

When Neal woke up, he was in a pleasant fog. He looked around and recognized that he was in the emergency room and then he saw Peter sitting beside him. He sighed contentedly and murmured Peter’s name.

Peter stood up and leaned over him, asking him, “Neal, how are you? Are you in pain? Do you need anything?”

Neal smiled up at him weakly and shook his head, then whispered, “Water?”

Peter asked the nurse who supplied some ice chips and Peter fed them to Neal with a spoon. 

Neal smiled happily, “I knew you’d come,” he told Peter.

Peter’s eyes filled and he said, “Of course, I’m here. I should never have let you go there by yourself!”

Neal said, “They were Vincent’s cousins. They set up a trap for me. They thought I knew where Vincent kept his money, but I didn’t know. You didn’t think I cut my anklet and tried to run, did you? They said they were going to tell you that.”

Peter reassured him, “Not for a minute. We knew they were lying.”

Neal looked a little panicky for a moment and then he said, “They tied me up and beat me. And, Peter, I think he might have raped me, too.”

Peter said, “Ssshh, don’t worry, Neal. We’ll talk later when you’re feeling a little better. Let me see you.” Peter gently pulled the blanket down and tried not to show any reaction to the small burn sores around Neal’s neck and wrists. He really could only see the edges of the deep purple bruises around his midsection and bottom since they were mostly in the back. Peter stifled a thought of flipping Neal over and kissing his bruises and licking his violated asshole.

Neal suddenly remembered something. “Peter, they were wearing Nazi uniforms, but they didn’t have Nazi art in those containers. They had art stolen by Nazis. I saw a Renoir and a Monet. They sent you on a fool’s errand after the Hitler monstrosities.”

Peter raised his brow questioningly. “Diana didn’t find any stolen Renoir or Monet at the scene,” he said quietly, “Only that crap produced by Nazi so-called artists.” Neal looked distressed. “No, they were there, Peter. I saw them.”

“OK,” said Peter, “I believe you, Neal. We’ll find them. Now I want you to rest. I’m going to find the doctor and see if I’m taking you home or if you need to stay in the hospital for a few days.”

“Don’t want to stay here. Wanna stay with you,” Neal told him sleepily and then he closed his eyes and slept.

After awhile, Dr. Chandra returned and said, “There is no evidence of any organ damage or other serious internal injuries. If we admit him, we can continue to give him IV pain meds and sedation, but if he can tolerate taking them by mouth, there is really no reason he can’t go home. He might actually be more comfortable and rest better there.”

Peter said, “I’d like to take him home as soon as he’s ready. My wife and I will care for him.”

Dr.Chandra murmured, “You have an understanding wife, Agent Burke.”

Peter felt his temper flare for a moment, but then he just said, “I certainly do. My wife loves Neal. He’s like a member of our family.”

The doctor said, “I’m sure he is a lucky man to have people who love him so much. I’d like to observe him for a couple of more hours here, and then if he’s still stable, I’ll discharge him.”

He added, “Agent Burke, Mr. Caffrey will need some follow-up psychiatric counseling.”

Peter told him, “He already has a psychiatrist that he’s been seeing since he had the bad experience with the MDMA.”

“That’s good, then,” replied the doctor. “And I understand that you both have dangerous jobs, but it would be good if Mr. Caffrey were not subjected to additional psychological trauma any time soon. He’ll need to rest in bed and take pain medication around the clock for a few days. Then he can gradually resume his activities and reduce the medication as he is able, but I would postpone putting him into challenging or threatening situations for as long as you can.”

“Thank you, I understand, doctor,” assured Peter. “I’ll do my best to keep him safe.” Peter looked away as tears came to his eyes again and his heart wrenched in his chest. He felt that Neal’s injuries were his fault, that he had failed to keep Neal safe, and it was tearing him up.

It was after midnight when Peter finally drove Neal home to Peter’s house in Brooklyn. El was watching out the window for them. She had prepared a bed for Neal on the couch since Peter told her there was no way Neal would be able to climb up stairs that night.

As it was, Peter practically carried a still very sedated Neal from the car to the house. Neal immediately went back to sleep, but Peter called Diana for another update and drove out to a pharmacy to fill Neal’s prescriptions for narcotics and antibiotics. 

When Peter finally got to bed, he was exhausted and fell gratefully into Elizabeth’s soft arms, but he could not sleep. In his mind, he kept going over the details of the day over and over. Finally he heard Neal moan downstairs, so he got up and administered his medicines to him and tucked the covers around him tenderly. Then he sat down on the floor and laid his head next to Neal’s, breathing in the clean fragrance of his hair, and fell asleep until the sun came up.

Peter was troubled that they still had no clue as to where Dirk Adler had disappeared to. He was also concerned that there had been no sign of the stolen masterpieces that Neal had told him about. While it was possible that Neal only imagined that he saw a Renoir and a Monet, Peter was more inclined to believe that Neal had actually seen what he described.

The White Collar team tried to work with the information they had to fit together the grand plan that had motivated the Nazi brothers. Finally, they had Deiter Adler brought back over from the prison. The prosecutor was reluctant to prepare his case until they had all the facts.

Peter went in first and terrified the prisoner with his wrath and then let Diana grill him about the details of their plans. At last, they uncovered a large ring of ex-Nazis and neo-Nazis who were engaged in smuggling old masterpieces stolen during the war by mixing them in with shipments for exhibits by Nazi artists around the world. It was a kind of shell game where the art was always moving, mixed in a few pieces at a time with pieces for the larger exhibits.

The reason the Adlers had lured Neal into their trap was that they believed their cousin Vincent had left behind a large amount of cash received from the sale of several of the masterpieces and they mistakenly thought that he would have confided to Neal how to get it. When they discovered that Neal did not know anything, Dirk had flown into a rage and Deiter lost control of him.

Armed with the names of other collaborators in the New York area, the team resumed their search for Dirk and the missing masterpieces, which they surmised Dirk had taken with him. Peter put out alerts in case of the sale of any Renoir or Monet newly arrived on the market.

When Peter got home, Mozzie was there visiting Neal. Neal was able to sit up for an hour or so at a time and to painfully make his way up the stairs to the bathroom a couple of times. Mozzie had just helped him to take a bath and shave, so Neal was feeling sore but relaxed. El was in the kitchen starting dinner.

Mozzie berated Peter loudly when he came in the door, blaming Peter for allowing Neal to be hurt. Peter understood his feelings, but he was in no mood to be attacked by the small bald fury. Peter snapped, “Why don’t you go see if you can’t scare up those missing masterpieces, Mozz? Then maybe we can catch the other evil brother!” 

Neal sat up straighter and winced. He hadn’t been told that both the Adlers had not been arrested and he suddenly realized that Dirk, the one that had assaulted him, was still at large. This was also the first time he heard that the Renoir and Monet he saw in the warehouse had not been recovered.

Peter immediately regretted his words as Mozzie left in a huff. Peter sat down heavily in the chair across from Neal, who was looking at him with questions all over his face. “Neal…,” Peter said pleadingly, “We’ll get them. It’s just a matter of time. We got a lot of new information out of Deiter today.”

Neal sighed and shook his head. Then he said, “Peter, do you think it would be okay if I move upstairs to the guestroom now?”

Relieved, Peter said, “Of course,” and helped Neal to his feet for the slow painful trip up the stairs. When he had Neal settled into bed, he got him some water and brought him his pills and promised to bring him up some dinner in a little while. Neal nestled under the covers and went to sleep.

After a week of pampering by Elizabeth, nighttime checks by Peter, and daily gossipy visits from Mozzie, Neal began to feel better. He insisted on making the trip down the stairs for meals and tried to spend more time sitting up than lying down. He could bathe and shave and dress himself without help.

Every night, Neal asked Peter if they had found Dirk or the missing art and was anxious to hear all the details of the case. Neal never talked about his own ordeal and Peter and Elizabeth refrained from asking for details. Mozzie asked, but Neal mostly put him off by saying he didn’t remember or he didn’t want to think about it.

Gradually a little light returned to the pretty blue eyes and he started to smile again, and even tried to help El in the kitchen a little bit. El was unfailingly cheerful and gentle with him, even though she felt her heart would break whenever she saw his bruised and sore skin and watched his agony as he tried to move around.

When Peter finally came home with the welcome news that Dirk had been found hiding out in a collaborator’s warehouse and the two masterpieces had been found with him, a visibly relieved Neal asked for a champagne toast. Peter was glad to oblige and pointed out that they would never have known about the stolen art if it hadn’t been for Neal.

They drained their glasses in celebration and then sipped their second glass before dinner. No one gave any thought to the fact that Neal was still taking pain meds around the clock. Suddenly Neal stood up and then swayed from the pain before taking a few steps toward the kitchen. 

He vomited before he could get there, holding his hand out ineffectively to stop it. Then he sank to the floor with a moan. Tears ran down his face. Peter was there immediately pulling him into his arms. He stroked his hair and kissed his forehead and kept repeating, “It’s ok, it’s going to be ok.”

El quietly cleaned up the mess on the floor and then squatted down in front of Neal with a glass of water. She smiled and said, “Oh, Sweetie, it’s okay. I guess pain meds and champagne really don’t mix. We should have known.”

Neal nodded and sipped some water. He gave the glass back to her with a weak smile and turned a little in Peter’s arms, asking him, "Would you please help me get back to bed now, Peter?”

“You bet, Buddy,” Peter replied. “Let’s get you into some clean pajamas, too.” That night Peter got up every couple of hours to check on Neal, but he was sleeping each time he checked.

At work, the White Collar team went on working to finish out the case, but everyone was aware of the depressed mood. It was like the sunny Neal they were used to brightening up their days was suddenly hidden behind a big black cloud. Everyone asked Peter about him daily. Some sent little notes and gifts. Diana and Clinton visited him at the Burkes and called him occasionally just to say hello.

Little by little, Neal regained enough strength that he finally felt that he could go home to his own apartment. June and Mozzie promised to keep a close eye on him and Elizabeth told him she was going to visit him every day and bring food. Neal felt relieved to be back at home at last, though he felt no need to return to work any time soon.

Neal didn't experience the dramatic post-traumatic symptoms that he had the last time. He felt mildly depressed and didn't have much enthusiasm for anything. He had no sexual desire. When he finally went back to the office, he had one panic attack in the elevator. Occasionally he felt a kind of general anxiety. There were nightmares and he would wake up trembling, but he couldn't remember them in the morning.

He didn't cry and he didn't want to talk about what happened. Mostly, he just felt kind of numb, and grateful for routine activities that didn't require a lot of creative thinking. His physical pain was greatly reduced by the narcotic pain pills that Dr. Chandra had prescribed for him with several refills. 

In the past, Neal hadn't like the vaguely high feeling produced by pain meds, but now he found he enjoyed it. They helped him to get through the days and, if he slowly drank a couple of glasses of wine with them in the evenings, they helped him get to sleep.

Neal knew Peter was torturing himself with guilt for letting him walk into a set up alone, but Neal didn't blame Peter. He appreciated Peter's concern and his company, but he didn't feel the pressing need for his love and approval that he had in the past. Neal felt like he was coping okay.

He was the only one who thought so. Peter and El had discussions every evening about how quiet and withdrawn Neal had become. They knew he was refusing to confront the horror of what had happened to him, choosing just to be numb to his feelings instead. El kept urging Peter to convince Neal to go back to Dr. Lilly, but Peter didn’t want to push Neal too hard or too fast.

After Neal made a few appearances at work which he basically sleepwalked through, Diana and Jones approached Peter with their concern. The three of them decided to encourage Neal to stay at home a little longer. None of them were even particularly concerned that Neal still wasn’t back to wearing the anklet since the sores on his ankles were still healing.

No one could imagine this passive version of Neal trying to run anywhere. Mozzie was extremely frustrated because Neal was basically shutting him out except for occasional short polite visits. Neal would plead that he was tired and needed to sleep and Mozzie would leave in frustration. Even June told Peter that she was worried about Neal.

After a few weeks, it became apparent that Neal’s problems were now more psychological than physical. Peter approached him while they had lunch one day.

“Neal, how’re you feeling, Buddy? Don’t say fine because I know you are not really fine,” Peter started.

Neal started to object, but seeing how serious Peter was, he dropped his shoulders and said, “No, I guess I’m not really fine, but I’m doing okay. I think it’s just going to take some time. You know the pain is hard to deal with.”

“What’s hurting you, Neal?” asked Peter sympathetically. “Well, you know, the bruises, the burns….” Neal said; then raising his voice, “My asshole. You know.”

Peter’s voice caught as he said softly, “Yeah, I know. You went through a lot.” Then, after a minute of silence, Peter asked, “Are you still taking the pain meds?”

“Yeahhh, sometimes,” Neal said. Then he admitted, “Most of the time.”

“Do they help your pain, Neal?” Peter asked. “I think so,” Neal said shakily. “I’m not sure. They make it easier for me to sleep.”

Peter took a deep breath. “I made an appointment for you with Dr. Lilly. I’ll come with you if you like.”

Neal just said, “When it is it?” 

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Peter said and smiled. “I didn’t want to give you a lot of time to think about it.”

“OK,” Neal said simply. “I’ll go. You can come with me.” For the first time in a long time, Neal sought the warmth of Peter’s arms for comfort. He felt loved and taken care of, and safe, at least for that moment.

Peter sighed, “Do you know how much I love you, Neal?” Neal smiled.

The two of them stood together in a quiet embrace that felt wonderful to both of them for a couple minutes until Peter finally led Neal back to the car and took him home. He gave him a light kiss and then told him, “I’ll come by and get you tomorrow.“

Peter had called Dr. Lilly, Neal’s psychiatrist, right after he was assaulted by the Adlers, to tell her what had happened and explain why Neal wouldn’t be in to see her until his wounds had healed up enough so he could get around.

Then last week, Peter had called her to express his concern for Neal and make an appointment for him. Peter wasn’t sure how willing Neal would be to see her, so he offered to accompany him. Dr. Lilly felt that it was important to get Neal back into treatment so she agreed.

When they arrived together, Dr. Lilly noted that Neal looked physically well and Peter looked tired and worried. After greeting them warmly, she asked whether Neal would prefer for her to see them together or to see him alone.

Neal surprised them both by saying, “If it’s all right, I think I’d like to talk to you by myself. Some of the things that happened are kind of embarrassing. Maybe Peter could come in at the end, if you want him to.”

Dr. Lilly smiled at him encouragingly and said, “Of course, that’s fine. Peter would you like to wait and we’ll call you if we need you?”

Peter actually looked relieved and said, “Sure, I’ll be right here. I’m just going to run down to my car to get some files to work on while I wait.”

When they were seated in their familiar positions across from each other, Dr. Lilly smiled at Neal again and said, “Peter told me you were assaulted by some criminals you were investigating. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Neal looked at the motherly doctor and felt that he could trust her. For the first time since it happened, he described everything he could remember about the attack, ending with his feelings of utter humiliation and disgust at being naked and covered with sweat, blood, urine and vomit when he was rescued by Diana and Jones.

Dr, Lilly inwardly sighed at the moral devastation he had suffered, but she focused her gaze on him intently to show her acceptance and encouragement. She said, “OK, Neal, let’s talk about what the experience meant to you and how it has affected you. Then let’s talk about what you need to do to get over it.”

Neal said, “I guess you can see why I didn’t want Peter to hear that, can’t you?”

“Why?” she asked, “What do you think Peter would be thinking after he heard it?”

“Well, he feels guilty, for one thing, for not protecting me,” Neal stated.

“Do you blame him for not protecting you, Neal?” she asked him.

“Oh no, it’s not that, it’s just, well, I don’t want him to feel bad,” said Neal quickly.

“Do you think he would be disgusted by what you told me? Do you think he would think of less you in some way? You said it was embarrassing,” Dr. Lilly pressed.

“Well, it is embarrassing. I’m glad he didn’t see me that way. I wish he didn’t even know about the, uh, rape.” Neal said quietly.

“Do you feel ashamed, Neal?” she asked.

“No, well, yes, well sort of, you know,” Neal said slowly.

“Was it your fault, Neal?” the doctor asked him.

“No, not really,” Neal said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have gone there, alone, I mean. But I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Of course, you didn’t. How could you have? Neal, I want you to listen to me now because this is the most important thing we are going to talk about today.” She continued, “This. Was. Not. Your. Fault. You did nothing to cause it to happen. You could not have prevented it. You didn’t want it. You didn’t ask for it. A crime was committed against you. It was not your fault.”

Neal nodded and then, for the first time since the attack, Neal start to sob. "They put a dog collar on me," he choked out.

She let him cry for a minute; then she got up and brought him a tissue and stroked the back of his hand. The doctor was totally unprepared when Neal threw his arms around her and buried his face against her, the way she had seen him do with Peter the last time he was distressed by a post-traumatic reaction.

She suddenly realized how desperately Neal needed to feel loved and protected in a way that he must never have been as a child. She patted him gently and disentangled herself from his embrace. He looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry,” with tears still streaming down his face.

This time she told him, “You have nothing to be sorry about, Neal,” as she gently wiped his tears with the tissues. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Her handsome patient looked up at her and stopped crying.

Dr. Lilly repeated, “You haven’t done anything wrong, Neal. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Neal nodded slowly and looked relieved. His breathing leveled off again and he looked up.

The doctor sat back down in her chair and said, “I don’t think we need Peter to join us today. When would you like to talk with me again? Would Friday be all right at this same time?”

Neal thought, “Friday is three days away,” but he nodded and said that would be fine. He thanked her and gave her a little smile. “I’ll look forward to it, doctor.”

They walked together into the waiting room and Dr. Lilly thanked Peter for coming with Neal. She told him, “We had a good talk today and Neal’s going to come back and see me on Friday.”

Peter thought he saw signs of tears on Neal’s face. He put his arm around Neal and said, “That’s great. Come on, Buddy. Let’s go home.”

They didn’t say anything in the car, but Peter parked and walked up to Neal’s apartment with him. He was surprised when Neal pulled him over to the couch to lie down beside him. Neal buried his face in Peter’s chest and Peter buried his in Neal’s hair. Peter gently stroked Neal’s back as they breathed in sync together.

Peter smiled as he realized that Neal had gone to sleep and he just enjoyed holding him and feeling him without the tension that had been so evident lately. When Neal awoke about an hour later, he raised his head to look at Peter and gave him a sheepish grin. “That felt so good,” he said.

Peter smiled reassuringly and said sincerely, “That did feel good, Neal.”

That night after Peter had gone home, Neal slept better than he had in a long time, and so did Peter.

On Friday, Peter called Neal to ask him if he needed a ride to the doctor’s office. Neal told him he would take a cab and Peter was relieved because he had a lot of work piled up that needed his attention.

When they were comfortably seated in her office, Dr. Lilly asked Neal how he was feeling. 

“It feels good to be here with you,” he said. “I feel like I can trust you to talk about things going on with me without it being a problem for you.”

“Unlike Peter and your other friends?” she asked. He nodded and she said, “That’s right. Your relationship with me is different. You don’t have to worry about taking care of me and you can be sure that I will set the appropriate boundaries.”

Neal smiled and said, “I think that’s what I mean.”

Dr. Lilly said, “I have a feeling that boundaries have been a big issue in your life, Neal. Who you are supposed to take care of and who is supposed to take care of you. What you are allowed to do as opposed to what you think you can get away with. How to know where to draw lines. Is that right?”

Neal looked at her for a long while. Then he said slowly, “Yes, I think that’s really it. I never exactly saw it that way.”

“OK,” she said, “Well, let’s keep that in mind. Now, how have you been doing? You know, the attack on you was an ultimate violation of your personal boundaries.”

“Violated is a good word for how I felt,” Neal said. “I can’t bear to think about it.”

Dr. Lilly told him, “The problem is that, when you try to shut out some thoughts and feelings, you usually end up blocking out a lot of other emotions that you don’t mean to.”

Neal suddenly said, “Dr. Lilly, I think I’ve been taking too many pain pills.” She responded calmly, “Tell me about that.”

“Well, at first the doctor told me to take them around the clock and then I was supposed to gradually cut down on them after the pain got better, but I’ve just kept on taking them every six hours. And at night, I drink a couple of glasses of wine with them to help me get to sleep,” Neal confessed.

“OK, well, it sounds like you have been using the narcotic to numb your emotional pain since your physical pain has subsided. I’m sure you realize that mixing alcohol and narcotics can be dangerous, too,” Dr. Lilly told him.

“I know. I’ve been trying to cut back on them, but now I’m used to them and if I don’t take one on time, I start to get shaky and sweaty. Sometimes I start yawning or sneezing,” Neal explained.

“OK. Neal. What I want you to do is break the tablets in half. Instead of taking one whole tablet every six hours, I want you to take a half a tablet every four hours for the next few days. That will decrease your dose without making you too uncomfortable. I’ll see you again on Monday and we’ll see how that is working. Do you think you can do that?” asked the doctor.

“Yes, I think I can if I just don’t feel too bad,” he replied.

Dr. Lilly smiled at him and said, “Good. I hope you can, because our other option is for me to put you in the hospital for a few days to detox you.”

Neal smiled back, “No, I really think I can do it.”

She stood up and said, “OK, until Monday then,” and shook his hand gently.

Neal left the psychiatrist’s office feeling more alive than he had in a long time. He decided to make a surprise visit to the FBI office to see what they were working on without him. For the first time since the assault, he felt some real interest in going back to work.

When he arrived at the office, the surprise effect caused them to realize that they had not replaced Neal’s anklet and therefore had not been following his movements. There was no excuse not to put it back on at this point. As he put his foot up on Jones’ desk so Jones could fasten a new unit around his now healed ankle, Neal gave a sigh. 

Jones said, “I’m sorry, Neal, but you know the rules.”

Neal gave him a big smile and said, “Oh no, I was just thinking how good it will feel to have my boundaries back.”

Jones gave him a quizzical look, but to Peter, who overheard their conversation, it made perfect sense. “Can I buy you a coffee, Neal?” Peter asked. When Neal said yes, Peter guided him to the elevator with a familiar hand on the small of Neal’s back.

“I’m proud of you,” Peter told him. “Why?” Neal asked in surprise. Peter smiled and said, “I’m just proud of you.” Then he asked, “Do you want to come over for dinner and stay with Elizabeth and me tonight? We’ve missed you.”

Neal said cautiously, “I’m not sure how much good company I’ll be.”

“No expectations, Neal,” Peter told him. Under that condition, Neal gratefully accepted the invitation.

Elizabeth was delighted to see Neal and greeted him with a kiss on his cheek. They had a good dinner and Neal declined a glass of wine to drink water instead. Later they watched a “Tiles of Fire” movie for old times’ sake, the three of them snuggled on the couch together. Peter sat in the middle with one arm around his wife and one around his lover.

For a moment, the movie made Neal think guiltily of Mozzie and he promised himself he would get back in touch with his friend soon.

After the movie, Neal climbed the stairs with Peter’s hand firmly on the small of his back. Neal smiled to himself at how secure that made him feel. After he had changed and gotten in bed and turned off the light, Peter came to the door of the guestroom and asked, “Could I give you a kiss goodnight?”

Neal reached out his arms and Peter leaned into them and gave Neal a long loving kiss. “Would you lie down with me for a little while, Peter?” Neal asked. The older man lay down beside Neal and held him in his arms with a contented sigh. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said.

After Neal was asleep, Peter kissed his cheek lightly and then got up to return to his bed with Elizabeth. She asked him, “How’s Neal doing, Hon?” Peter replied, “Better, I think.”

Neal proudly told Dr. Lilly on Monday that he had stuck to his drug reduction program for the weekend without any trouble. She smiled and said, “Good, now that your body has adjusted to a lower dose, you’re going to stretch out the time between pills one hour at a time every day until you are down to one half pill at night and one half in the daytime. That should take about a week. After that, you’ll just take one at bedtime for a couple of days and after that you won’t take any unless you really need one for physical pain.”

“Sounds like a good plan, doctor. I trust you,” said Neal. “Can we talk about another problem I’m having?”

“Certainly,” she replied, “That’s what we’re here for.” Neal blushed and said, “I’ve lost my sex drive.”

Dr. Lilly maintained a straight face and said, “Tell me what you mean.”

“Well, when Peter touches me, it feels comforting and nice, but I don’t get hard and want to press against him,” Neal said, not looking at her.

“But his touch feels good to you?” she confirmed. Neal nodded yes. “Tell me,” she said, “Are you able to get pleasure from masturbating?” Neal shook his head, still not looking at her. “Have you tried?” she asked gently. “I just can’t get interested in it,” he said. “I can get hard, but it doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Well, part of that may be due to the narcotics you’ve been taking,” she said, “But it’s not uncommon after a brutal rape to lose interest in sex.”

Neal winced and said, “I think that has a lot to do with it. Sometimes I feel an aching in my rectum that I think is more imaginary than real.”

“That must be unpleasant,” the doctor said sympathetically. Neal nodded, “It is. Very.”

“If you are on good terms with Peter, I’m going to suggest that you spend some time with him just cuddling and petting each other without any expectation of sex. Only go as far as you feel comfortable. Let him know what feels good and what doesn’t.” Dr. Lilly told him. 

“I think I’d like that,” he said. Then he turned to look at her sincerely and said, “Thank you, Doctor.”

She gave him a reassuring smile and said, “You are doing good work, Neal. I like that you are being honest and direct with me so I can help you. See you on Thursday?” Neal nodded and said goodbye.

Neal continued to cut back the dose of his narcotics without any problem and he began to feel more alive. When he called Peter to ask him if he could spend a night with him, Peter eagerly agreed. Neal cautioned him, “I just want to be with you, Peter. I don’t know how much I can do in bed.”

“No pressure,” Peter assured him. “I just want to be with you, too.”

For two grown men, they were as excited as a couple of girls planning a slumber party. They decided what they would eat and drink, and what Peter should bring. When Peter knocked on Neal’s door, he was carrying a bouquet of tiger lillies that he had picked up on a whim. Neal was delighted and immediately put them in water in a nice crystal vase.

After helping each other make dinner and enjoying eating the results, Peter asked Neal if they were allowed to drink alcohol. Neal wavered, but he said, “I haven’t quite stopped taking the narcotics yet, so I’m not drinking.”

Peter said, “Then I’m not either.” Then he grabbed Neal’s arm and said, “Come here, you,” and pulled him onto his lap. Peter was immediately hard and Neal was surprised to find that his own cock was starting to respond, too. They began with a long slow French kiss that became more urgent as they moved from mouth to face to neck and shoulders. “Oh Neal,” Peter sighed.

Neal got up and undressed and said simply, “Let’s go to bed, Peter.” Peter quickly undressed and joined Neal on the bed. He put his arms around Neal and cuddled him securely while kissing the back of his neck. Neal relaxed in his lover’s arms. When he turned over to kiss him again and press against him, Neal’s cock was pleasantly hard. As they took their time kissing and fondling each other, it progressed to rock hard and throbbing. 

They began to move together so that their two erect cocks were pressed together between them. Finally, Peter reached down and enclosed them in his hand. Neal found himself coming almost immediately into Peter’s hand. Peter chuckled with delight and quickly finished himself off.

“I thought you said not to expect too much,” Peter teased. “I didn’t expect that,” Neal said with wonder. Then he giggled and said, “Must’ve been the flowers!”

Peter laughed and flipped Neal over to spoon him securely. “Mmm,” murmured Neal in satisfied contentment.

After awhile, they took a long hot bubble bath together, which was one of the activities they had planned for the evening. Afterward, as Peter toweled Neal off, he put his lips to Neal’s limp cock and kissed it. Neal responded by rubbing it against Peter’s cheek as he felt himself growing hard again.

This time, they took their time, exploring every inch of each other with their fingers and their mouths. Peter especially made sure to kiss the scars that were still visible from Neal’s recent wounds. The only thing that made Neal uncomfortable was for Peter to get too close to his asshole, so Peter carefully avoided touching him there.

After they came for the second time, they collapsed together in happy exhaustion. Peter got up and blew out the candles that lit the room and pulled the covers over them, and they slept snugly in each other’s arms all night.

Peter woke first and he lay there looking at Neal’s face, marveling as always at his masculine beauty. Neal slowly came awake and looked into Peter’s eyes with the adoring look he sometimes gave him. Their lips met in a welcome morning kiss and then they made their way to the shower, where they hugged and petted and soaped each other.

When they were both dressed, Peter asked, “What do you want to do today, Neal?” 

“I want to sketch you while you to do the crossword puzzle," smiled Neal. “After we eat breakfast and drink some coffee on the terrace.” Then Neal reminded him of the first day Peter had found Neal happily enjoying breakfast on June’s terrace instead of at the rat hole motel where he had left him. “I had so much fun leaving that note for you!” Neal laughed.

“I was ready to kill you – or send you back to prison. I couldn’t believe you had landed on your feet like that with the perfect set up just twenty-four hours after I got you out!” Peter remembered. “I still remember the first time I saw you dressed in one of Byron’s suits and that damn hat.”

“You love my hat!” exclaimed Neal fondly. Peter came over and put his arm around Neal’s waist and said, “I love you, Neal Caffrey!”

Neal rewarded him with his brilliant smile and Peter leaned over and kissed him. “I hope you don’t have any other plans for this weekend, because I’m staying over again tonight,” he said. Then he added, “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Neal answered simply, "Of course, I do.” They happily finished their coffees, enjoying the view and the fresh air and each other’s comfortable company.

Neal felt truly peaceful and happy for the first time since his attack. He had an idea that he still had issues to work through, but for the moment, he felt whole and well. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Following Dr. Lilly’s advice, Neal was able to stop taking the narcotics completely. He returned to work and was glad for even the mortgage fraud cases and paperwork that usually bored him. 

As he walked by Diana’s desk one afternoon, Neal saw a file labeled Adler on her desk. His heart wrenched and he asked her, “Diana, do you think I could look at the Adler file.”

Knowing it contained disturbing photographs of Neal in the condition they found him after the assault, Diana told him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You don’t need to see it.”

“Actually, I kind of do,” Neal told her. “I think it might help me feel some closure.”

Diana looked at him closely and sighed. “Alright, come one, I’ll look at it with you,” she told him. She motioned Neal toward the interrogation room and signaled Peter by holding up the file behind Neal’s back as they walked.

As they settled at the table with the file between them, Diana saw Peter slip into the viewing position behind the two way mirror.

Diana gently asked Neal again, “Are you sure you want to see this?” Neal looked at her, with his serious blue eyes full of apprehension, and nodded slowly.

He opened the file and began to slowly examine each page, starting with the original report of the stolen Hitler paintings with pictures of them and the other works of Nazi artists from the catalog for the exhibit. Neal paused and remembered going back to the warehouse on the pretext that he would be shown this Nazi “art” and finding the Adler brothers dressed in Nazi uniforms under a big black Swastika on a red flag. Neal shivered and Diana reached over and lay a hand on his arm to steady him.

Neal continued to look carefully at each page of the detailed file, reading each report, when he suddenly gasped at the next page. In front of him were photographs of himself in the condition that Diana had found him, naked, dazed, dirty, bruised, and bleeding, with a leather collar around his neck. The photographs had been taken when he arrived at the hospital. Neal involuntarily raised one hand to rub his neck.

There were additional photos taken of the storeroom full of crated art and of the small bare closet where Diana had found him. Neal gritted his teeth and read every word of Diana’s and Jones’ reports of how they found him and took him to the hospital. Silent tears began to run down his cheeks. Diana reached over to touch his arm again as Neal began to read Dr. Chandra’s detailed report of his treatment at the Bellevue Emergency Department.

Finally, he turned a page to find full size color photos of Deiter and Dirk Adler staring out at him with cold eyes. Neal stifled a little scream and slammed the folder shut. He lay his head on crossed arms on the table and sobbed. Diana came around behind him and put one hand on his shoulder and soothed his hair with her other hand.

Peter clenched his fists in the monitoring room as he watched Neal suffer. He knew if they hadn’t agreed to show the file to Neal, he would only have gotten it on his own and perhaps have gone through this all alone. Peter walked around the wall and sat down across from Neal. He removed Diana’s hand from Neal’s hair and placed it on Neal’s other shoulder. 

Then he cupped the back of Neal’s neck and gently brought his head up to face him. “Look at me, Neal” he commanded quietly. Neal just shook his head and mumbled, “No, Peter.” Then he shook off Diana’s and Peter’s hands and got up without looking at either of them. He dried his eyes with his pocket square handkerchief and walked back toward his desk, leaving the file behind on the table.

Halfway there, Neal turned around and went back to where Peter and Diana were still standing and looking at each other. Without meeting their eyes, Neal said, “I’d like to show this file to Dr. Lilly. Could I get a copy of it?”

Peter hesitated, then said, “How about if I send a copy over to her directly?” Neal just nodded and left the room again.

Peter’s heart was breaking, but he knew better than to pursue Neal at that moment. He thanked Diana for being so supportive and asked her to quietly keep an eye on Neal. He sensed that Neal would resent it if Peter told him to go home or tried to talk to him. He just needed to be left alone to regain his composure, and truthfully, Peter didn’t want Neal out of their sight.

Later, Peter called Neal on his cell phone and said briefly, “I sent the file over to Dr. Lilly. She can see you this afternoon after work. I’ll give you a ride.” Neal just said, “OK.”

Dr. Lilly slowly turned the pages of the file that Peter had sent over from the FBI. Although she had been told of the ordeal that Neal had suffered, she had not really been filled in on all the details. Now she saw that the extent of the trauma Neal had suffered was staggering.

The doctor had some personal history of her own that compounded the effect of the brutality for her. Her late husband, Dr. Albert Birnbaum, had been the son of a Holocaust survivor. The emotional scars represented by the small tattoo on his father’s arm had affected every aspect of their family life. Dr. Lilly’s husband had struggled with survivor guilt and fury at the Nazis and the resulting mental turmoil had led to his choice of professions as a psychiatrist. She thought of him as one of the most caring and well balanced persons she had ever known, but she knew it hadn’t always been that way before she met him.

It made Dr. Lilly sick that there were still Nazi sympathizers in the world who embraced that hateful philosophy. Her fists clenched involuntarily as she thought of beautiful, sensitive Neal being abused by these psychopaths as she examined the photographs. 

Suddenly she stopped as she noted the names of the Adler brothers. Not only did they share the last name of an evil man who had been extremely influential in Neal’s life, their first names were Deiter and Dirk – which bore an uncanny resemblance to the names Peter and Burke. 

Dr. Lilly caught her breath and breathed in consciously several times to calm herself. She had to control her own emotions and think about how she could best help her fragile patient through the aftermath of his ordeal.

The doctor was composed when Neal arrived looking slightly less meticulously put together than he usually did. He did not meet her eyes as she ushered him into the office. When they were seated across from each other, Dr. Lilly said quietly, “I reviewed the file that Peter sent over.”

Neal finally looked up and his vulnerable expression broke her heart. He asked, “So you saw the pictures of me?” 

She nodded and said, “Yes, it was painful to see you so badly hurt. Is that what upset you most?”

Neal shook his head. “No, that was bad, but I already knew that had happened. Jones and Diana have treated me with dignity and I’m grateful to them for rescuing me when they did. Dr. Chandra took good care of me – again.” He gave a weak little laugh.

“What troubles you most about the file, Neal?” Dr. Lilly pressed.

Neal blurted out, “It was seeing those evil faces! They beat me and raped me. They had no reason to do it. They had no right to do it. When I see their eyes, they are just cold. I’ve been trying to forget their faces since it happened.”

Dr. Lilly nodded and decided to take a chance on sharing her personal feeling with Neal. “My late husband was a psychiatrist named Albert Bernbaum. His father was a Holocaust survivor. He was haunted by the evil faces of the Nazis who tortured him for his entire life.”

Neal looked at her gratefully, his eyes moist, and said, “So you understand then, how it is for me?”

Dr. Lilly said, “Yes, I probably understand better than most, but Neal, my husband and his father vowed not to let those horrible experiences defeat them. They dedicated their lives to undoing wrong wherever they found it and making the world a better place. They believed that was the only way to defeat evil.”

Neal’s eyes nearly overflowed. “I can see that,” he said thoughtfully. “There are so many good people in my life.”

“Is that something recent, Neal, or have you always felt loved and cherished?” Dr. Lilly asked curiously.

Neal shook his head. “There has always been someone I could count on. There was a woman named Ellen when I was growing up. There was Mozzie after I was my own. I even thought Vincent Adler cared about me until I found out who he really was. And there was Kate, but I’m not sure….”

“Now you have a lover who adores you, his understanding wife who nourishes you, and colleagues at work who respect and cherish you, as well as your friends, Mozzie and June,” the doctor reminded him.

Neal looked at her fondly and added, “And I have you, doctor.” She smiled and said, “Yes, you do.”

They sat quietly a minute so Neal could process what the doctor was telling him. Then Dr. Lilly asked him, “Neal, have you noticed anything about the names of your attackers?”

“Well, they are Adlers like Vincent,” he said slowly. Then light dawned in his eyes as he said, “Deiter, Dirk. Peter Burke. Wow!”

Dr. Lilly nodded. “What does that mean to you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, genuinely puzzled. “I’ll have to think about it.” The doctor nodded. 

Then she said, “I’d like to ask you another question, Neal. Do you know what happened to the Renoir and the Monet that were recovered in the operation?”

Neal looked at her questioningly and said, “No, I really haven’t thought about it.” He joked, “I didn’t take them!”

Dr. Lilly laughed at that. She said, “I was wondering because the Nazis stole a great deal of wealth and precious art from individual Jewish citizens. There have been recent renewed efforts to find the original owners, or their families, and restore their property to them, rather than have it automatically appropriated by museums. Many owners eventually donate the art to museums anyway, but it helps to restore their sense of dignity and justice to have their ownership rights recognized.”

“I can see that,” said Neal. “Would you like me to check into the provenance of the Renoir and the Monet?”

“I thought you might want to do it. Righting another wrong committed by Nazis might help you to feel morally avenged, the way it helped my husband,” she explained.

Neal smiled at the idea. “You know I think it really might,” he said. Then suddenly, without preamble, he told her, “I had sex with Peter,” struggling to keep the pride out of his voice.

Dr. Lilly gave a little laugh and said, “Well, that was unexpected – I mean your telling me that now – not that you had sex with Peter. Oh now you have me flustered!”

Neal laughed, “Oh well, that’s a first. So you are human.”

The doctor smiled and said, “You are a surprising patient, Neal.”

“Is that a good thing?” Neal asked seriously.

“You are a good thing, Neal” she said affectionately. ”Now how upset are you going to be by the information you saw in this file?”

“I’m glad I came here today. It was Peter’s idea,” he said. “I think I can handle it now.”

“Do you think you will need something to help you sleep?” Dr. Lilly asked kindly.

“Maybe. Do you think a little wine be would okay now that I’m not taking the narcotics?” he asked.

“I’d hate to see you drink alone,” she responded. “Do you think you could spend tonight with Peter?”

Neal smiled at her and said, “I’ll take any excuse I can get!” He winked at her, then said mischievously, “You didn’t ask me if sex was good with Peter.”

“And I’m not going to. Call me if you have an emergency, Neal. Otherwise, I’ll see you at your regular appointment next week,” she told him and stood up to see him out.

After he left, Dr. Lilly sat in her office for awhile, just thinking about her husband and how much they would have loved to have had a son like Neal. She had to remind herself to remain objective and not let her fondness for Neal get in the way of his therapy. She realized that Neal unconsciously conned everyone he interacted with to get affection and approval.

Neal took a cab from Dr. Lilly’s office straight to the Burkes, calling Elizabeth on the way to ask if he could come over for dinner. Elizabeth said, “Of course, you can. In fact, you can help me fix it. Peter won’t be home for another hour.”

When Peter came home, he was pleasantly surprised to find Neal in his kitchen, drinking a glass of wine, and happily chatting with El as she cooked.

Over dinner, Neal asked Peter what had happened to the Renoir and the Monet they had recovered from the Adlers. He explained what Dr. Lilly had told him about the restoration of lost art to Jewish families.

Peter said thoughtfully, “I’m aware of those efforts. I’m not sure what happened to the paintings we found. They are probably still being treated as evidence. I’ll find out where they are being kept.”

“I’d like to see them, Peter,” said Neal. “Of course you would,” Peter said suspiciously and they all laughed.

After dinner, Peter asked Neal if he wanted more wine, then paused and asked, “You’re okay to drink now?”

Neal replied slyly, “Oh yes, it’s for medicinal purposes. I stopped taking the narcotics so now the doctor says I can have a little wine to help me sleep.”

“A little?” Peter asked cynically. “She told me I shouldn’t drink alone,” laughed Neal. He felt so alive and, well, normal, and it felt very good.

Elizabeth said, “Well, I have an early morning appointment tomorrow so I’m going to leave you boys to your wine." She went upstairs and they heard her run a bath.

Neal and Peter finished off one bottle and started another. They talked animatedly about art and all kinds of things until they both fell into a drunken silence. Peter looked carefully at Neal, not wanting to ruin the moment. It was so good to see him relaxed and enjoying himself.

Neal reached up and lovingly caressed Peter’s face and said, “What would I do without you?”

They kissed with a fierce urgency, both groping at each other’s stiffening cocks. Neal laughed and said, “Wait a minute, let’s get undressed so we can do this right. You’re wrinkling my clothes!”

They lay together naked in each other’s arms for a minute and then Peter said, “Come on, let’s go upstairs to bed.”

Neal hesitated and said, “I’m not sure Elizabeth...." Peter laughed and said, “Not my bed, silly – your bed.” Neal repeated with pleasure, “My bed.” He loved the idea that he had a bed in this home where he felt so happy and loved.

Peter sucked him until he was frantic and then Neal grabbed his head and stopped him. Neal looked at him and asked, “Peter, do you think you could….touch me, my ass…?” 

Peter smiled at him and gently turned him over and began lovingly licking and kissing and biting that firm round ass that he cherished, slowly working his way down to Neal’s hole. He felt Neal’s breath catch in his throat as he anticipated Peter’s touch. Carefully, Peter teased him with a wet finger and then moved up so he could press the moist tip of his penis against Neal’s relaxed asshole.

He slid himself around, drawing little moans from Neal, and reached under him to caress Neal’s swollen probing cock with his hand. Peter stopped for a moment to reach over to the nightstand drawer for a condom and some lube. He lavished lube on Neal’s crack and slipped a condom onto his own bulging cock. Very slowly, he positioned himself to gradually press into Neal.

Neal was panting and rocking into Peter’s hand. He moaned with pleasure as he felt Peter entering him and said, “Yes, I want you inside me.” Peter gave a low groan and fucked Neal tenderly until his passion overcame him. With a few deep thrusts, he ejaculated into him. Neal rubbed against Peter’s hand as it closed tighter around him until he exploded in his own orgasm with a little cry.

Neal turn over and nestled against Peter. He giggled and said, “I hope we didn’t wake up Elizabeth.” 

Peter sighed, “And I thought I wasn’t going to have a headache until morning. Go to sleep, sweet boy.”

“G’night, Peter,” Neal sighed sleepily and fell into a deep restful sleep.

Neal was suddenly a bundle of constructive energy. He came up with creative ideas at work and offered his assistance to the other agents when Peter was snowed under with paperwork. At home, he was constantly sketching and painting. He continued to press Peter for more information about the recovered Renoir and Monet paintings and began to do some research on the computer regarding Jewish art lost to the Nazis. 

He even found himself reading a little about the Holocaust and concentrations camps. He was especially touched by Elie Wiesel’s "Night", which Mozzie recommended when he discovered Neal’s new interest. Mozzie became intrigued by the idea of returning of the original Renoir and Monet to their rightful owners. His first suggestion to Neal was to paint copies of the masterpieces in case they needed them.

Peter located the two paintings which were being kept at the Met in storage in case they were needed for evidence in the trials of the Adler brothers. When he arranged for a viewing of them, Neal brought his sketchpad. When they left the museum, Neal asked when the trials would begin. Peter said the brothers had lawyered up and there was no telling when they would actually get the cases before a jury. 

They were extremely complicated cases involving several Nazi sympathizer and heritage groups spread across a number of cities and countries. Not all of them had been caught in the Adler operation, but several other Renaissance and Impressionist masterpieces had also been found.

Peter asked Neal, “Have you been contacted by the prosecutors? The assault against you is a separate crime from the art thefts and only involves the Adlers.”

Neal shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything from them.” Peter said he would look into it.

Peter asked Agent Matthews from DC Art Crimes to brief the White Collar section on the status of art stolen by the Nazis during the war. She described how Hitler and Goering and Himmler and other top Nazis looted about 20% of the art in the museums of Europe and scoured the property that was confiscated from wealthy Jews to build their own private art collections.

She told them that tens of thousands of pieces estimated at a value of up to $150 billion were still missing despite numerous explicit international agreements made at the time of the war agreeing to restore original ownership. These paintings were known to change hands among private dealers, mostly in Europe, from time to time, but they had provenance gaps between the years 1933 and 1948.

For the last twenty years or so, there had been a greater effort to track down the stolen works and return them to their rightful owners. Since the Germans were great record keepers, it was often possible for attorneys and art history experts to make the identification. Agent Matthews offered the services of her office to try to get the information for restitution of the two paintings they had found with Dirk Adler.

Neal was excited to give that news to Dr. Lilly. She was impressed with the energy and follow through Neal had put into the project and told him so.

“So you’re proud of me?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Is that important to you, Neal? To make me proud of you?” she countered. 

Neal looked confused. He said, “I thought you would be happy.”

“I am happy to hear about the art, Neal and I am proud of you for pursuing it,” she affirmed. “But?” he said stubbornly.

“But how do you feel about it?” she asked. “Did you do it for me or because it felt good to do the right thing?”

“Can’t it be both?” he asked. “Of course,” she said. “People usually do things for more than one reason.”

“But?” he asked again, with a little smile.

“You’re a smart man, Neal. What do you think? I can’t give you all the answers,” the doctor told him with a kind smile.

“You don’t want me to depend on you,” guessed Neal. “Not for things you can do for yourself,” Dr. Lilly confirmed.

“Want to see something I did myself?” Neal asked her. He took out his sketchpad and handed it to her. As she flipped through it, Dr. Lilly could not hide her surprise or her admiration. 

There were credible reproductions of each of the two missing paintings and there were meticulous portraits of each of the Adler brothers with their cold eyes. There was a compelling drawing of Neal naked with all of his bruises and wounds being carried by a tall black FBI agent, a soft sketch of Peter working on a crossword puzzle in morning light, and a striking still life of tiger lillies in a crystal vase. The last one was a remarkably affectionate portrait of herself with kind eyes and a little smile playing around her mouth.

“Neal, you are so talented,” she said, gazing at him thoughtfully. “These are stunning.”

He visibly sat up straighter and prouder and said, “I wanted to show you. This is my therapy.”

Dr. Lilly nodded and smiled at him. “Now, each time we meet together, I want you tell me about one of these drawings. I want you tell me what they mean to you.”

Neal smiled with contentment. That was exactly what he wanted to do.

Then he winked at her and said brightly, “I had sex with Peter again!” His doctor laughed and said, “Good for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Information about art stolen by Nazis is from https://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/worldviews/wp/2013/11/06/why-nazi-seized-art-is-only-now-resurfacing-and-how-it-will-change-the-art-world/ and other newspaper articles (The Guardian, USA Today).
> 
> The White Collar characters were created by Jeff Eastin for USA TV. The doctors at Bellevue and NYU, as well as the villains in the story, are entirely fictional and not based on any real persons.


End file.
